


With that ink on your lips

by Narmie



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Crush, M/M, pinning, pwp or some sort of it I guess, silly Armie, tatto fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22837840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narmie/pseuds/Narmie
Summary: So maybe he was slightly scared of needles. Ok, maybe he was fucking terrified of them and he honestly shouldn’t be here searching for some tattoo but he was, he totally was and he didn’t really know what was more stupid. That he really was there, most probably there would be some stupid tattoo somewhere on his body that he would have to stick with for the rest of his life. Or the fact that he was doing it because of a hot tattoo artist that he had a massive crush on. Yeah, the amount of stupidity he possessed. It was kind of pathetic when you stopped and really thought about it. Perhaps that was why he didn’t think about it.In short, how Armie has a big crush on Timmy and decides to do something not quite in his taste.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 40
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> At this point, I don't even know what this story is, because I started writing it months ago and it's still kinda unfinished. I will try to bring some smut with the next chapter, so I guess stay tuned.  
> And there are many inaccuracies, so please just ignore and play along! 
> 
> PS: Any mistakes are my own, be gentle I'm not native :)

So maybe he was slightly scared of needles. Ok, maybe he was fucking terrified of them and he honestly shouldn’t be here searching for some tattoo but he was, he totally was and he didn’t really know what was more stupid. That he really was there, most probably there would be some stupid tattoo somewhere on his body that he would have to stick with for the rest of his life. Or the fact that he was doing it because of a hot tattoo artist that he had a massive crush on. Yeah, the amount of stupidity he possessed. It was kind of pathetic when you stopped and really thought about it. Perhaps that was why he didn’t think about it.

The aforementioned guy was all slender and long, legs extremely slim in black leather pants, his favourite ones, mind you, and when combined with black boots, let's just say he wanted those boots and the rest of this exquisite body. The guy - Timothée - not that he introduced himself to Armie, it was just random luck that Armie overheard him saying his name (and practised to pronounce it perfectly, he liked the sound of his voice when he said it) - had a pale, alabaster skin, dotted with moles and Armie secretly wanted to count them all and then put his lips on each and every one of them, especially that cute, little mole above his upper lip, exquisitely lickable. Speaking of lips. Armie could write poems about them, perhaps not good ones, but Timmy’s lips had this perfect pink tone, that he had never seen before. They looked utterly soft and plump, a little bit puffy because he bit them constantly (Armie’s knees went weak every time he saw it happen). And his Cupid bow. _Oh dear lord._ His fucking Cupid bow. So perfect, so sublime, so subtly pointed. Whenever Armie thought of those sinful lips, he couldn’t stop his mind from wondering how they would look stretched around his cock. And that was when things could get a little too heavy and steamy, and if he came with Timmy’s name on his lips, there was no reason for anyone else to know. As if this wasn’t enough, there were also tattoos covering both his arms, the black ink standing out in comparison with his pale skin. When Armie felt brave enough, he pictured how those tattoos would look like covered in his come. He never was turned on by tattooed arms. Not until Timmy. He couldn’t stop wondering if he had more of them, in the places usually hidden from the general public, where his skin was always shielded by fabric. Was his slim torso white, with only moles to devour or maybe - _perhaps_ \- another tattoo found its place there, in the middle of his chest. Maybe his legs were coated in ink - not only black like his arms but with some splash of colour. At this point, he really was desperate to find out. Some time ago - ok it was two days ago and Armie was still in some kind of shock state - they came face to face. He knew Timmy’s eyes were green, but being so close, he found out that they weren’t strictly green. They were fucking kaleidoscopic. Dots of different colours surrounding the green of his irises. The mesmerizing eyes. And if he was staring (drooling a bit perhaps), then no one should judge him for it. There were also times when he stumbled upon him and Timmy had eyeliner around his eyes, messy black lines, that made his eyes captivating even more. Filling Armie with an urge to smear them. To brush his dirty thumb over his cheekbones, over that sharp jawline, down to the hollow of his throat. To trace the same path with his tongue, licking and biting on the tender flesh, leaving Timmy’s skin slightly red with beard burn, to catch and pull on his earlobe, the pierced one, feeling the cool metal against his tongue. He wanted to devour him. All of him. 

Perhaps that was why he was stupidly standing inside, staring at Timmy, still uncertain, because well … tattoo you know. But maybe also because needles. And also Timmy. Especially Timmy. 

“Hi,” he said with his melodious voice, just a bit of French accent distinguishable, softly filling the air and Armie felt his heart race increasing. He was so fucked. Soooo fucked “Can I help you”

”Holy God, yes” slipped through his mouth, he felt his cheeks reddening, a blush spreading over the skin while he cursed himself silently. _So fucked_. 

Timmy chuckled, showing a peek of his crooked teeth and Armie’s knees went instantly weak. He tucked his curls behind his ear, the golden earring shining in the newfound light, his shirt riding low on his shoulder putting his collarbone on display. 

“Are you here for a tattoo?” 

“How did you know?” Armie blurted out before he could even think of it. Why did his mind stop working in the vicinity of Timmy for fuck’s sake? This was just embarrassing. Timmy looked at him, his eyebrows rising in disbelief, his head cocked to the side “Right” he murmured mortified. Nothing like a good impression from the start. 

“You already have something in mind?” The question was asked softly when Timmy leaned over his desk, sweatpants riding surprisingly low and Armie might have swallowed his tongue at that exact moment. He was desperate to put his hands on those slender hips, cover them with his fingers, dip into the tender flesh, bruise it, see how purple correlates with the pale skin. 

“Ummm ...no” 

Because no one should judge him if he came here to stare at Timmy for a few minutes. Hours maybe. Ok. Hours. 

“Ok then. You can look at my portfolio if anything will catch your eye don’t hesitate” 

**o0o**

He moved over to the table, pulling a chair and sitting on it, straightening his legs in front of him, crossing them around the ankles. With a last glance at Timmy, who was now drawing something idly in his own corner of the place, biting his lower lip, Armie opened the sketchbook to be instantly pulled in by Timmy’s work. He knew Timmy was an exceptionally good artist, but one thing was to listen about it from others, but witnessing it first hand was totally different. All drawings were detailed, even when the lines were messy and perhaps sloppy, he had an uncanny ability to catch the exact feeling in the movement. He scrubbed his beard absentmindedly, looking for something there even if he couldn’t strictly picture it in his own head. He just had this weird feeling that when he would see it, he’d know. He closed the book, being slightly disappointed. It was all beautiful, but nothing what he was looking for. He sighed frustrated, looking up and finding Timmy’s eyes on him. He blushed, he knew he did. At this point, it was the only reaction he had around Timmy. Others too. But he lived in constant denial of those.

“You didn’t find anything”

It was the statement and Armie nodded, rising from his chair and moving closer to Timmy. He has something in mind, but right now it was just an idea and he wasn’t quite sure if Timmy would go with it.

“Would you draw something for me?” the question was there before he could chicken out and just leave. 

“It’s a little bit risky. Giving yourself as a canvas to paint, don’t you think?” 

Timmy moved closer, Armie for a second forgot how to breathe, because those kaleidoscopic eyes were focused on him. Just him. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He quickly counted to ten, knowing perfectly that Timmy wanted answers and not pathetic client drooling over him.

“I might be a risk-taker”

Timmy chuckled, his head going backwards, exposing the pale expanse of the skin of his throat.

_Fucker_

“Where do you want it?”

Armie felt his heart skipping a bit, he took a few shallow breaths, stealing some precious seconds. He then rode his shirt up, exposing abdomen and pointing vaguely at his ribcage and hips. Timmy shifted closer, bending a little, practically staring at his muscles, his tongue caught between his teeth and Armie would call it adorable if it wasn’t so fucking arousing. He swallowed the moan escaping his lips when Timmy’s long and slim fingers traced over his skin. The treacherous muscles flexing underneath his fingertips. He shuddered when his chill hand was spread on his warm skin, Timmy’s index finger catching the ribs and pinky at the hem of his pants. 

“I think about this size” 

He looked up at him, a shadow from his eyelashes ghosting on his cheeks, his eyes open and curious and Armie wanted to kiss him badly. Or push him further to his knees and press him to his crotch. It was hard to decide when Timmy just stared at him from that position and soon enough the situation wouldn’t be the only thing that was hard.

“Come back this Thursday. I’ll have it ready for you”

That was when he felt dismissed, strangely it didn’t help to prevent all his blood going south. 

**o0o**

Thursday had come later than he anticipated. His mind invaded with memories of the soft touch of Timmy’s hand on his skin, his fingers skimming over the flesh, the ghost of his breath tickling his chest hair, the phantom memory of Timmy almost on his knees in front of him. If he jacked off more than twice to that image, that was fine. Everything was fucking fine. 

When Thursday finally rolled, Armie felt unsettled. Not quite ready for what was to come, but wanting it nonetheless. If having your skin pierced with needles for hours, meant fewer hours of shamelessly staring at Timmy (let just forget about incoming pain and the possibility of him passing out) was enough for Armie to go there, sometime around mid-afternoon with his heart beating fast and hard in his chest, pounding onto his ribcage. He licked his dry lips, swallowing down through his knotted throat, convincing himself that needles were good and that he would be ten thousand times cooler having a gigantic tattoo on his chest. Except he never wanted to be cool. When he opened the door, going inside he just hoped he wouldn’t throw up seeing the needle pressing on his skin, black ink left behind.

“Oh hi” here it was, the perfect pink mouth stretched in welcoming smile

“Hello”

_Was this how you flirt Hammer? No wonder you are more alone than a sock that lost the other pair somewhere in the washing machine_

“Did you draw it?” Armie asked, curiosity winning over self-loathing 

“Yeah, I have it over here. You should look and decide if that’s what you want. I’m not gonna get mad or upset if you don’t like it” Timmy added with a small chuckle, putting one of his long curls behind his ears. They were really long, brushing just so over his shoulders, Armie noticed some time ago and still wasn’t over the fact how it would feel if he yanked them harshly, with intent. He couldn’t stop thinking about moving his fingers through those strands, loosening them, scratching the scalp just so. 

He shook his head, dismissing his thoughts and trying to focus on the moment because Timmy was looking at him expectantly, biting into his lower lip, crooked teeth peeking out a bit, looking kinda bashful and it almost killed him on the spot. 

_Armand Hammer killed by the overloaded cuteness of Timothee Chalamet._

_That seems right._

He finally opened the given sketchbook, that looked slightly different from the previous one until he realized that none looked familiar and it kinda dawned on him that this had to be Timmy’s private drawings. Biting his lower lip to prevent himself from saying something, he turned the pages to find the marked one. With something Timmy drew. For him.

_It’s fucking perfect_

He thought while his fingers almost absently trace the pencil lines on the white page. Smaller than he anticipated after his last visit. But looking alive, vivid and powerful. It looked almost as if it was moving, the bird’s strong wings fighting against the wind. 

“It’s a phoenix” Timmy said, snatching Armie’s attention back to him

“What does it mean?” he queried curiously, his eyes falling down to admire the sketch again

“Phoenix is a symbol of rebirth and growth. Life on its own”

“So why did you decide to draw it for me?” Armie asked again, confused. Because he didn’t feel like something was changing like he was changing something. There was no growth in his actions.

“Because they usually mark a new beginning. The tale is that they burn and they reborn again from the ashes. So it is, after all, a very good comparison to life. Sometimes we as humans burn, but we reborn from it, because the experience makes us wiser. We burn, but it makes us stronger. We want and crave new beginnings, associating them with new chances, but we can’t forget about the past, that is what brought us to that point” he explains gently, words spilling leisurely from his tongue, when he moves closer, to finally take the sketchbook from Armie’s hands and close it carefully “And I think we should mark this new beginning for you” and then he smiled, and Armie couldn’t just say no to that. 

  
**o0o**

To his immense surprise, it didn’t hurt that much. It prickled his skin and he really couldn’t force himself to look at the needle. But he could openly stare at Timmy, at his hair, his lips, his skin. The way he’s all focused, the way his hand feather-lightly touched him, moving gently over his ribs, down to the waistband of his jeans. And his heart started to race again in his chest, his breathing hitching, his hands curled into fists. The slow-burn and insane madness. 

And he utterly and completely loved it.

He looked down, watching as Timmy’s hand gripped the needle, his skin not so virgin anymore, ink sinking into pores, permeating and staying there. He wasn’t sure what he should feel, any sort of shock or surprise, perhaps he should be terrified, dreadful. Because it was there and it would stay with him. It was permanent. But there wasn’t anything like it, he just couldn’t move his focus to anything besides Timmy. And that was truly terrifying. 

Timmy swiped paper towel over the skin, wiping away the leftover ink and blood that started to pour. He then studied his work gingerly, the lower lip again between his teeth, the head cocked to the side. Armie didn’t know how long he was lying there, he lost track of time, focused on Timmy and how his hands were working over his chest and ribcage, how he brushed his fingertips over the skin, the gooseflesh following his path. It could be 30 seconds, an hour or infinity, he couldn’t tell, but he would stay like this forever. Fuck the needles.

“I didn’t tell you before” Timmy suddenly started, dragging Armie’s attention from his hand to his face, the bile rising in his throat. It didn’t sound good. At all “I can’t do this tattoo in one session. You will have to come again”

“Oh,” said breathlessly and relieved when Timmy grinned at him, too accurately aware of quickly beating heart and shallow panting, before setting his eyes back on the work.

He realized his life was just a fucked up mess when Timmy informed him that his next session would be in a couple of weeks, and not days as he primarily thought because it had to heal first before Timmy could do any shadowing. Or at least that was what he said because after hearing the first part, Armie stopped paying attention to the rest. It truly wasn’t fair that he went that far to spend some time with Timmy and right when he got another chance to stare at him without anyone around, it had to be in weeks. Fucking weeks. 

Wonderful.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the second and last chapter. Hopefully, you will like it and not hate me for it.  
> All mistakes are mine.   
> Stay safe y'all!

Stepping out from the car, into the pavement drowning in the sun, he couldn’t believe how quickly time passed and he was here again. Not that he was wiser, more handsome or more prepared. None of that honestly. It was more about having again those precious hours just with Timmy, all for himself. The guilty pleasure that cost quite some money, a bit of dignity and gave him a permanent tattoo. Which he even liked. Weirdly enough. Perhaps because it was Timmy’s work. Chris really couldn’t stop teasing him about it. The fucker.

He entered, taking off his glasses, his eyes adjusting to the darkness around the place. Climatic someone could say. It was terribly wrong and inappropriate that he was already aroused, just being in the place. His skin itching as if already anticipating something to happen. 

“Hello again” 

Armie turned around, his body following the source of the voice, finally resting his gaze on Timmy who was looking at him with the soft smile. Armie’s stomach did a somersault, his eyes feasting on the man in front of him. 

_ Fuck. He looks gorgeous.  _

He was standing there, leaning over the desk, his legs crossed over his ankles. He was wearing a white tee, loose enough that Armie could see his sharp collarbones jutting through the skin and grey, baggy sweatpants that were hanging low on his hips. The needy want surged through Armie. He just wanted to drag Timmy out of here back to his bedroom, push those pants down, let them pool around his ankles freeing Tim’s gorgeous cock. To bury himself in Timmy’s heat, to let Timmy ride him until they both were breathless and sweaty, hearts pounding with want, curses falling from their lips between messy kisses.

Armie shook his head and took three deep breaths, wishing those images away. It was already hard to be near Timmy. He didn’t want to  _ get _ hard on top of it all. Especially since it was rather difficult for him to hide it. Better not to risk getting embarrassed in front of Tim further.

He looked up, catching Timmy eyeing him, his eyebrows furrowed, one corner of his lips tugged upwards. Armie gave him a faint smile in return, his ability to produce coherent thoughts already lost.

“Shading?”

“Yeah” Armie responded, giving a curt nod, his body already tingling with anticipation of what would happen. Not that he got immune to needles. They still had terrified him. But to have Timmy’s hands again on him, brushing, caressing, his eyes assessing his work, scanning over Armie’s chest. The torture that Armie was more than ready for. He just really hoped it would take a lot of time. 

“Come here then big guy,” Tim said, his head indicating the back door “I have everything ready there and since there are no more clients for today, so it’s only you and me here. Get yourself comfortable” he added, closing the door behind them. 

There was something intimate about this space, Armie thought, getting onto the chair, watching Timmy shuffling around the place from the corner of his eyes. Trying to breathe deep and slow. 

“Ready?” he finally asked, his hands covered with blue gloves, sitting next to Armie on a stool

“As much as I would ever be” 

He shivered with the first touch of Tim’s hand against his naked torso. Timmy just looked at him and smiled gently, Armie just shook his head seeing the words of comfort on the tip of Tim’s tongue. He sprayed the antiseptic all over his skin and wiped it up with a clean paper towel, then brushed the tattoo with his hand, eliciting goosebumps under his featherlight touch. Armie watched mesmerized as Timmy’s bit his lower lip, teeth sinking in the plump flesh, while he was deciding for the best spot to start his work. Then needle came to work and Armie just focused on Tim and his amazing hands moving all over his skin, making him feel a lot of things all at once.

He wasn’t even aware when his eyes flutter closed, but when he opened them again at a gentle shake from Timmy, he had to adjust a bit to the light. 

“That quick?” he asked curiously, ready to swear that it was only a few minutes, but he knew all too well how easily he could get lost in Tim’s touch.

“Yeah. I think so. But you should see yourself and tell me if it works for you”

Cracking his neck, Armie got up and stepped closer to the mirror. He brushed his index finger over his ribs, gently tracing the ink of the tattoo, marvelling at Timmy’s skills. He thought that the first version of it was rather impressively good. He said it. His friends said it. No wonder, since it was Tim’s job after all. But the shading on it was done perfectly, adding profundity to it, making it less stark against the tanned skin, blending it with layers of different softness. Black and white combined perfectly.

“You like it?” Timmy finally asked, uncertainty colouring his voice. Armie shifted, looking at him through his shoulder

“I love it,” he said with conviction. It was amazingly done and his thoughts of regretting this, of having to live for the rest of his miserable life with an awful tattoo, disappeared. But he couldn’t help himself to not feel just a bit sad, not having any excuse to come to see Timmy now. Perhaps he would think of something, making some more disturbing and pathetic choices, instead of just asking Tim out for a date. That wasn’t that easy as getting a tattoo. It required being someone and frankly, Armie was average, maybe beside his height. The rest of him was simply ordinary.

“They say you get addicted to getting tattoos. That’s an easy road after the first one”

“Can see it happening”

“For yourself?”

“Perhaps” 

Armie chuckled, convinced that if another tattoo would bring him back here, with Timmy for a few hours, he would do it. Maybe this time even he would be the one having an actual idea for the new tattoo. Something that wouldn’t be Timmy’s name in a fancy handwritten font. Although that was a kinda weird idea to let Tim know about his feelings. Stupid and dumb and utterly pathetic. In other words, completely his way of handling things. 

“I only shaded it a bit, but still be careful with it for the first few days”

“Sure”

Tim’s lips quirked in a comforting smile and Armie looked down bashfully, feeling his cheeks heating under Timmy’s attention. He’d rather preferred the other way around when he was the one shamelessly watching. Not that Timmy was watching him shamelessly, like ogling him, he wasn’t. There wasn’t much to ogle in the first place. Still, Armie preferred to let his gaze linger without being noticed, without other sets of prying eyes following him.

When he looked up again, Timmy had his back to him and he could practically gawk at his backside, how his tattoos appeared from the sleeve, sinking lower, getting almost heavier and deeper, to finally stopped at his small wrists. Armie really wanted to feel all of that inked skin beneath his fingertips, his fingers prickled with an urge to reach out and find out. But he was rather a coward so none of it would ever happen.

Timmy turned around, quite unexpectedly, catching Armie’s eyes roaming over his frame. Armie swore his inability to not look at him, to not appreciate even the smallest curve of Timmy’s body. When his eyes finally looked up, with the sheepish smile on his face, Timmy was already watching him, something different dancing in his eyes. It caused goosebumps to appear on his skin, something tingling inside him and he knew he should better get out of here. Before he did something really stupid. Like marching forward and kissing the shit out of him. So obviously that was exactly what he did. He closed the distance between the two of them in three big steps, cradling Tim’s cheeks between his palms — that seemed suddenly huge — and leaned down to kiss Timmy.

How on Earth he had come from being unable to ask Timmy out or at least flirt with him to kissing him almost unabashedly, he had no idea. But feeling the softness of Timmy’s lips beneath his, was enough to set him on fire, to flick the tip of his tongue against the seam of Tim’s lips, to nibble at his bottom lip. When Timmy’s mouth opened on a low moan, Armie couldn’t even think of stopping his tongue from pushing inside, to feel that velvety softness awaiting there. 

Only when Timmy whimpered, just when Armie’s hands moved to Tim’s hip bones, spreading his fingers over the heated skin, pulling Timmy forward, almost crushing their bodies, only then Armie realized what he was doing. He pulled away immediately, terrified, his heart pounding in his chest for an entirely different reason. Timmy blinked at him and looked at him groggily. His lips were kiss-swollen and wonderfully puffy. Armie wanted to trace them with his thumb, to push inside, let them fall apart. But his brain was on overload because of what he had just done, so obviously there was only one way out. 

Run.

**o0o**

He really wasn’t known for making reasonable decisions. Usually, he bottled up all those emotions until he simply couldn’t anymore and exploded or did something stupid. For two days straight he was beating himself. Over kissing Timmy, not running away, because fleeing from there was the best decision he could have made. Under those circumstances of course. That wasn’t negating the fact that he really overstepped and for better or for worse he should apologise. He plotted this whole thing, coming here late, knowing well that Timmy was closing that day, waiting for the last client to step out of the doors, before marching inside. 

_ Here goes nothing _

“We are — “ Timmy started to say, hearing the shuffle of the door opening and then closing “Closed” added after he looked up, finding Armie there standing rather awkwardly, the tone of his voice going lower. 

“I’m not gonna take long” Armie admitted, trying to sound sure, but even for his own ears, he hadn’t sounded so convincing “I just wanted to apologize for … ugh for the kiss”

“Apologise?”

“Yeah. That was … very shitty of me to like grab you and force a kiss on you. And I’m terribly sorry”

“Wait wait wait wait wait,” Timmy said quickly in succession, cutting Armie off from whatever he also wanted to add. “So you come here because you felt bad about forcing a kiss on me, right?”

“Yeah”

“And not because you run away, yes?”

“Yeah”

“So you wanted to kiss me?”

“Yeah”

“Oh thank fucking God” 

And then Timmy was on him, making him wrap his hand around his small waist, their lips crushing in a kiss that was rather too awkward at the start than they both wanted. It wasn’t sexy that he gaped like a fish in the first two seconds, because he stumbled backwards when Tim’s body collided with his and his mouth opened on its own accord in a silent ‘o’. It was also very awkward that Timmy simply went with shoving his tongue into Armie’s mouth and it felt more like a warm, alive fish was poking around his mouth. But then Armie slowed and then shifted, changing the angle of their kiss, closing his mouth a bit, getting a firmer hold on Tim’s lithe form, by sneaking his hand all around his waist and pushing him flush against his own body. The desire was already burning in his veins, his brain on overload. Because if he would simply wait even for a second, he would realise it was utterly bizarre what was he doing. He was never the one taking brave decisions, jumping head straight into the water, not knowing what waited for him beneath the surface. And yet, here he was. With arms full of Tim, kissing the daylight out of him and not stopping even for a breath, afraid of his worries kicking in and stopping him from doing what he truly wanted. So when Timmy pulled away, breathless and panting, Armie lowered his head and latched his lips to the pale throat, kissing and nipping and sucking, delighted in the little moans and keening sounds that were pushed through Tim’s slightly open mouth, sounding almost as if they weren’t supposed to be heard, driving Armie even more mad with desire. When Timmy cupped his cheeks and urged him up, he went obediently, flicking his tongue against the seam of Tim’s lips and nipping softly at the bottom lip, relishing the softness and plumpiness under his tongue. 

He moved his hands lower, pushing them down from Tim’s hip bones and cupping his ass, spreading his fingers over the flesh and squeezing not so gently. And then Timmy’s legs moved as if he was trying to climb him and before he even knew, Timmy had his legs wrapped around Armie’s waist, crossed around the ankles at his back, one of Armie’s hands went immediately to support him and was spread over Tim’s back. 

Timmy started to grind over him and if he was even thinking about anything, all his thoughts left him under that delicious friction he was experiencing. The sparks of pleasure lighting up all his nerve endings. The only thing he could think was  _ here, now, mine _ . Even if that would mean he was to come in his pants like a horny teenager. He was definitely horny and he wanted to come badly. And frankly, at the time, he didn’t give a fuck about what it said about him.

“Fuckk” he heard Timmy's muffled voice, propelled through the thick fog of desire in his brain. He couldn’t agree more.

_ YESSSSSSSSSSsssss _

His mind screamed. He wanted to fuck. He wanted to come. He wanted to see Timmy coming. To see his face flushed, his body lax and pliant, panting harshly and still drowning in post-coital bliss. There were so many ways he wanted it to happen. But there was one he fantasized about over and over and over again. He couldn’t let this chance pass. 

He eased Timmy down, delighted in the way Tim slid down against him. He pushed him, quite purposefully against the wall and sank to his knees, not caring at all that the floor was hard and cold underneath him. He undid Tim’s belt buckle, his fingers trembling just a little bit, but he couldn’t quite pay much attention to them, when Timmy did all these little noises now and then, or when he groaned, low in his throat, when Armie accidentally brushed his hand over the bulge.

He pushed his pants down alongside with his underwear, his cock bobbing up after being freed from its confines. Armie wanted to look at it, to see it from all sides and angles, to kiss and lick every inch. To simply worship this beautiful cock that was long and pale just slightly pink at the tip. But he felt the need urging him on, to finally put his lips on Timmy’s cock, after so many fantasies he wanted a taste of the real thing. He stroked Timmy a few times, making his cock hard, jutting proudly upwards, before he wrapped his lips around the pink tip, savouring the moan falling from Timmy’s lips. He sucked the head into his mouth, tasting the pre-come oozing from it onto his tongue and he couldn’t wait any longer. He swallowed Timmy’s cock, trying a few times until he had it all to the root in his mouth, the tip hitting the back of his throat. He felt Timmy’s hands pushing through his hair, scraping his fingernails against Armie’s scalp and Armie moaned around Tim’s cock at the feeling.

He was painfully hard in his jeans and it seemed a good idea to just release some pressure, by unbuttoning his pants and taking his cock out, giving it a few experimental tugs, before focusing all his attention on Timmy again and that gorgeous cock of his. He licked, sucked and swallowed, with every move Timmy coming a little more apart. Until he shattered completely, an incomprehensible ‘ _ nnnngh _ ’ falling from his lips, before he was coming in Armie’s mouth and all Armie could do was to try to swallow. Timmy slumped against the wall, his eyes fluttered shut, he was panting, harshly, his limp cock was lying softly and frankly — Armie couldn’t take it anymore. He got himself in hand and worked furiously, all finesse and gentleness forgotten in a hectic rush to feel orgasm ripping through him. He was close, his balls tightening, the tip of his cock an angry colour of red. He was at the precipice. And then he looked up, flicking his tongue over his dry bottom lip and he saw Timmy watching him from under his eyelashes. His eyes barely open, still breathing harshly. Timmy was looking down at him and the angle made it look like he had a double chin, the skin folding under his jaw and that was what undid Armie. The fact that even someone as perfect as Timmy had his own imperfections that made him even more perfect. He came spurting white ribbons of come on his hands and the floor. He tumbled forward, his knees giving out, his thighs shivering. He leaned against the wall and Timmy sat next to him, snatching his hand and pulling close to his mouth.

“Next time I want to taste you properly’ he said before cleaning Armie’s fingers, flicking his tongue around the digits. All Armie could do was groan, low and hoarse in his throat, his cock giving a valiant effort to get hard again at Timmy’s ministrations. 

“You will be the death of me”

But he didn’t mind it at all. In fact, he couldn’t wait to see his come splashed over Tim’s tattoos.


End file.
